


shōgo

by 2face



Series: McHanzo Week 2016 [6]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, McHanzo Week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9006946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2face/pseuds/2face
Summary: day 6: ultimate swapHanzo wants to understand Deadeye. Perhaps it is impossible.





	

“Why is it called ‘Deadeye?’” Hanzo asked one evening, as he lay atop Jesse in bed. He brushed the tips of his fingers underneath Jesse’s right eye, studying it closely.

Jesse had noticed that Hanzo seemed fascinated by the technique. He had interrogated Jesse about how it worked, and when Jesse had few good answers, he satisfied himself with always sticking close enough to the gunslinger in battle to see him when it happened.

“It’s just a fancy way of sayin’ ‘good shot,’” Jesse replied with a chuckle. Hanzo hummed thoughtfully.

“You said it hurts, once. To use it.”

To a more casual observer, Hanzo’s expression had barely changed. To Jesse, though, the archer’s concern was evident. “Aw, don’t you worry your pretty head none. Angie’s had me looked over by some of the best optometrists in the world and they said my eyes ‘show no signs of unnatural deterioration’ or somethin’ like that. ‘Sides, ‘it hurts’ is a real simple way of puttin’ it.”

“What is it like in non-simple terms, then?”

Jesse raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips in thought. “I dunno. What’s it feel like when you summon yer dragons?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes at Jesse’s dodging of the question, then rested his cheek on his chest. He traced the shape of a dragon along Jesse’s bare skin, making the man below him shiver. “Like a furious hunger. Like fire bursts from my heart and erupts from my skin. The release of letting go of a taut bowstring, amplified a thousand times.”

Jesse’s arms tightened their grip around Hanzo ever so slightly. He was quiet for a long moment, then spoke.

“I hear a clock,” he said, “Tickin’ between my ears, ‘n’ all I can see are targets, dead men walkin’. Used to get a small heart attack every time I did it. I was afraid of what would happen if I didn’t shoot before the tickin’ stopped.”

“But you are not afraid anymore?”

“Still makes my stomach sink a lil’, even though I know nothin’ happens. I’ve learned to ignore it, at least. Barely notice anymore.“

Hanzo looked back up at him, scrutinizing his right eye, and Jesse thought he might be staring straight into his soul.

 

-

 

Hanzo was soaked to the bone with rain and shivering as he hauled Jesse down the winding maze of alleyways on King’s Row. The mission had gone very wrong.

“Shoulda left me behind,” mumbled Jesse for the third time.

“Shut up,” said Hanzo for the third time. He could hear their pursuers behind them, their heavy footfalls splashing through puddles. Hanzo tried to ignore the warm wetness of Jesse’s blood on the hand he had tucked under his arm. Two shots, one in his shoulder and one in his prosthetic. Shots that had been meant for Hanzo.

Hanzo had called on the dragon to buy them their initial escape, but it had only gotten them so far. They turned a final corner.

Dead end.

“Shoulda left me behind,” said Jesse for the fourth time.

True enough, without Jesse weighing him down, scaling the walls would be no issue. But that was irrelevant, as far as Hanzo was concerned.

“I would rather die.”

He lowered Jesse to the ground and reached into his quiver. One scatter arrow and nothing more. The dragon was tired, it did not answer him.

Their pursuers rounded the corner, and the sun broke through the clouds.

_Ah,_ thought Hanzo. _How fitting._

He nocked his arrow. He thought he could hear the ticking of a clock.

_“It’s high noon.”_

 

-

 

Hanzo awoke several hours later on a transport heading back to Gibraltar.

He tried to sit up to find he had been belted into the cot he was on. Angela was immediately at his side, undoing his restraints. “ _Es tut mir Leid_ ,” she said hastily. “Didn’t want you falling about during flight.” Hanzo barely noticed her. When he sat up, the first thing he saw was McCree.

The cowboy was unconscious on a cot attached to the other wall, hooked up to an IV and heavily bandaged. His prosthetic was missing.

“He’s stable. He will be all right.”

Hanzo didn’t look at Dr. Ziegler when she spoke. He didn’t want to take his eyes off Jesse, but he was dimly aware of Morrison and Hana, asleep in the seats by the door.

“Mr. Shimada,” Angela said gently, “We found you in an alley, passed out from exhaustion, among six dead Talon agents. Do you remember what happened?”

Hanzo turned to her. He wasn’t sure what to say. “All six? Dead?”

“Yes, each one with a fragment of your scatter arrow lodged in their skull. If I didn’t know better, Mr. Shimada...” She walked around to the table in the corner, where Jesse’s hat was resting. She picked it up, and handed it to Hanzo. “... I would call it a miracle.”

Hanzo gripped the hat tightly. He threw his legs over the edge of the bed and rose to his feet, making his way to Jesse’s side.

Almost as if he could sense him there, Jesse began to stir. His eyes cracked open, and when they focussed on Hanzo, he grinned.

“Howdy, honeybee,” he said weakly.

Hanzo smacked him over the head. Not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to get his point across.

“Darlinnnn’,” McCree whined, “It ain’t polite to hit an injured man.”

Hanzo leaned over and embraced him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, carefully avoiding putting pressure on his wound. When he pulled back, his eyes were threatening to spill.

“ _Never_ tell me to leave you behind again, you thoughtless fool.”

“I hear ya, darlin’. I hear ya,” Jesse said warmly, adoringly, then reached up to brush his fingers under Hanzo’s right eye.

“Did yer eyes get even more beautiful?”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading.  
> find me on tumblr @ antivan-brandy.tumblr.com


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